Chapter 19 Jordan #2
"Tell me," he commands.
My pride wars with my need, and it loses.
"Don't stop," I breathe.
"Say please."
I take a deep breath.
"Please."
He starts again, and somehow it feels even better than before. His fingers work me with a skill that makes me think he was made to do this to me.
Two fingers slide into me, and I moan, arching my back.
I feel his cock get hard against my ass, thick and insistent through the wet fabric of his pants.
I reach behind me to touch him, to feel the length of him, and he shifts away.
His fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing my clit more intensely. The hand on my breast tightens, fingers rolling my nipple until I gasp.
I'm right there, right on the edge, pleasure building to an impossible peak, and just as I am about to come…
He stops.
"No. Don't stop. Don't," I say, the words coming from deep inside me.
"I want to hear you beg, sweetheart," he says.
I don't even hesitate. My body won't allow it.
"Please. Please don't stop."
His left hand slides from my breast to my throat. He squeezes gently and starts rubbing me again.
The combination of his hand on my throat and his fingers between my legs sends me over the edge in seconds.
Fire and ice explode all over my body, and I come hard, my whole body shaking as pleasure crashes through me. My vision goes white at the edges, and I moan a little too loudly.
He slows, letting me get everything I can out of this orgasm. My eyes roll, my body goes limp.
Fuck, that felt amazing.
His thumb brushes against my lips, and I see him bring his other hand up to his mouth and lick a finger that was inside me, tasting me on him.
I grind back against him, feeling the hard length of his cock.
He releases me and steps back.
"No, fluture." His voice is low and thick with restraint.
He looks down at me, taking in my body, and then back up.
"Not here," he continues, his voice softening slightly. "Not rushed in a shower. When I take you for the first time, I want you in my bed, and I want all the time in the world to worship you."
Before I can even process what he just said, he walks back over to me and leans down and kisses me. It's shockingly soft and tender, and I take both of his lips on mine.
He pulls back and his eyes are dark. "Now, finish your shower," he says. "And I will be thinking about nothing else today but this moment."
Then he just walks away.
I'm left breathing deeply, my body tingling where he touched me, my mind a mess of confusion and need and something dangerously close to surrender.
The water continues to pour over me, but I barely feel it.
I eventually shut the shower door and do as he said.
When I finally turn off the water and step out, my legs are still shaking from everything.
I wrap myself in a towel and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My cheeks are flushed. My eyes are bright. My lips are swollen from biting them.
I look like I've been fucked. Except I haven't been. Not really.
Just his fingers.
And it was better than actual sex with most of the men I've been with.
"Jesus Christ," I say to my reflection.
My two sides rage in my head again.
What the hell am I doing?
I just let him finger me in the shower.
No. Not just let him. Begged, and wanted more.
But did he just reject me?
No. That wasn't rejection. That was a reservation.
An appointment for my own undoing.
The thought makes heat pool low in my belly again.
I dry off and walk back into the bedroom, rifling through the shopping bags until I find something comfortable: soft black trousers and an oversized cashmere sweater.
The tags are still attached. I rip them off and toss them in the trash.
My phone, the burner he gave me, sits on the nightstand. I pick it up and stare at the single contact saved in it.
Matei.
My thumb hovers over his name.
What would I even say right now? "Thanks for the orgasm, when's round two?"
I set the phone back down.
After a few minutes, my stomach growls from all my morning excitement, and the need for coffee consumes me.
I venture downstairs, walking through the massive house.
The kitchen is empty when I arrive, but there's fresh coffee and pastries laid out on the counter. Croissants, pain au chocolat, something with berries that looks amazing.
I pour myself coffee and grab a croissant, biting into the flaky layers.
Of course it's the best croissant I've ever had.
Soon I hear footsteps echo in the hallway.
My heart jumps, thinking it might be Matei.
Instead, Adrian appears in the doorway.
He looks like hell, with bloodshot eyes, rumpled clothes, and messy hair. He squints at me like the light hurts.
"Morning," I say cautiously.
He grunts something that might be a greeting and heads straight for the coffee pot.
We stand in awkward silence while he pours himself a cup and drinks half of it in one go.
He refills his coffee and starts to leave, then pauses in the doorway.
"Can I give you a word of advice?" he asks, but doesn't wait for me to answer. "Don't fall for him. Men like Matei, like me, like all of us, we destroy everything we touch. Even the things we love."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone with the pastries and the uncomfortable truth in his words.